


High Society

by jolecia



Category: Poldark (TV 2015)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Party, Pre-Relationship, Set during S1, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 13:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jolecia/pseuds/jolecia
Summary: George is beginning to experience the woes of being an eligible bachelor, but there’s one young lady he doesn’t mind spending time with. Written for the tumblr prompt George/Elizabeth + "why are we whispering?"





	High Society

Though he usually considered it his duty to the family to mingle with the other guests on occasions such as the one he currently found himself in, George Warleggan had spent much of this particular ball at the Assembly Rooms hiding in a shadowy corner. Nursing a glass of port that had managed to last all evening with barely a sip taken out of it, he observed the throng quietly and with no small hint of wariness as they milled about. The crowd was dense, save for where the dances were being played out, and it surged and receded in a way which would have brought to mind a flock of roosting starlings had it not been for the riot of colour that glimmered across the hall like sunlight on water. It was everything that, as a gentleman, he should revel in, but he found that he had no such compulsion on this particular night.

He couldn’t help but be frustrated with himself, reminded all too well of the rare balls he had attended before he was yet to make his fortune, clad in a shabby waistcoat and worn tails, too shy and nervous and altogether too aware of the disparity between himself and the other guests, both in appearance and rank, to brave approaching anyone, let alone making conversation. That was a difficulty he had long since smoothed over, though–or rather ruthlessly stamped out with the aid of his uncle–so his current reclusiveness was not on that score. No, he had been encountering an entirely new kind of threat recently, one which he had never had to worry about as the poorly dressed upstart tradesman who hovered awkwardly at the edge of the rare social gatherings he was invited to. As it turned out, he was now an eligible bachelor, and he wasn’t sure if he appreciated the change in status. 

No, he decided, he definitely didn’t appreciate the change in status. Well, that is to say, he appreciated everything that he had achieved–his wealth, his social standing among other things. What he didn’t appreciate, he reflected from his self-imposed exile in the corner of the room, was being mobbed by young girls that he could barely tolerate on a good day, and had barely tolerated him prior to him becoming one of the richest men in the county, yet were now oddly keen to form an attachment–not, he suspected, at all unrelated to the prospect of being mistress of Cardew.

With a soft sigh, he raised his glass to his lips and took another small sip of port, wishing that he could leave early without it being remarked upon. That would not do though, so he turned his attention back to the other guests. As he watched them, he noticed a figure detaching itself from the mass of colour and approach him with a kind smile on her face. George immediately perked up, a smile of his own ghosting over his lips. Elizabeth Poldark looked as resplendent as ever in her lilac gown, her expression tender and welcoming as it always was, and George could not help but privately compare her sincere warmth to certain grasping individuals that he had spent the evening evading, to dubious success. It was ironic, he thought, to have the attention of these girls when the one woman he would ever have considered… But it would not do to dwell on that. Elizabeth was married to Francis now, and that would not change no matter how much he pined.

“Elizabeth,” he greeted her lightly. “I trust you are well?”

“Quite well, thank you, George,” she replied, coming to a stop before him. “And yourself?”

“Well enough” returned George.

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows slightly, her expression turning a little wry, though no less good-natured.

“Does this corner provide one with particularly high spirits, then?,” she asked teasingly. “If so, I hope you shan’t object to me sharing it with you. I find that I have grown rather tired of the crowds, and…it appears that Francis has elected to spend the evening in the card room.”

She had attempted to keep her voice light for that last part, but George noticed how the light in her eyes dimmed a little as she spoke those words. Simultaneously, he felt a pang of sympathy for her and a stab of annoyance at his friend. Truly, he did not understand why Francis, having such a wonderful wife, would neglect her in favour of gaming and whoring.

Still, he could hardly say that to her–he wouldn’t know where to start, the fact that it would be entirely inappropriate notwithstanding. As such, he reassured her of her welcome and turned the exchange to lighter topics. He wasn’t sure how long they spent conversing, though he was vaguely aware that a fair amount of time had passed. They had just moved on to an engaging discussion about Haydn, when his chief botherer for that evening suddenly came into his line of sight. He dropped his voice to a whisper mid-sentence upon seeing her, not wanting her to spot him. Elizabeth followed suit, though she wore a bemused frown on her face as she did so.

“Why are we whispering?” she asked after a short while, finally deciding to assuage her confusion.

“I am attempting not to draw the attention of Patience Teague,” George replied softly, indicating the girl in question with a subtle nod of his head. “I suspect her mother has decided to unleash her on me in the hope that she might form an attachment, if the interactions I have been having with both of them to night are anything to go by. I had to pretend that I was feeling out of sorts to escape the last time, and I’ve no intention of repeating the experience.”

Elizabeth tilted her head so she could observe Patience Teague out of the corner of her eye before turning her gaze back to him, looking a little amused.

“Oh,” she said. “Oh dear. However shall you avoid them?”

The music for the previous dance had stopped, George noticed, and he had a sudden idea.

“Perhaps you would care to assist me, if it pleases you?” he asked, offering his hand and nodding towards the dance floor, his lips quirking with humour.

Elizabeth smiled broadly, her eyes alight with laughter as she took his hand.

“It would please me very much, thank you, George” she said.

George smiled back at her, his chest filled with that peculiar warmth he always felt when around her. As he led her to where the other couples were assembling, it occurred to him that, though he knew she would never love him, he could still make her happy. They could still be friends. Yes, he thought as the music started up, friends. He liked that idea very much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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